


Everyday Destiny

by DancingInTheStorm



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Also normal everyday life, Arthur as the Once and Future King of legend, Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen, Golden Age AU, Merlin's connection to the world and to the Old Religion, No Slash, Nonlinear Narrative, and the building of Albion, canon drabbles up to the end of season four, exploring the underexplored themes of Merlin, like immortality, or as everyday as you can get in Camelot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-11 16:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheStorm/pseuds/DancingInTheStorm
Summary: Great destinies swing of small hinges; a collection of small moments that shape Albion.A pre- and post-reveal drabble collection.





	1. Discovery

Geoffrey blew on the wet pages before carefully setting his quill on the parchment strewn desk. He stood with a sigh and a dull twisting in his stomach that barely registered after twenty-six years of danger; you could instill fear in others, but after so long, resilience began to take hold.

Some called it bravery. He called it weariness.

No one was likely to enter the library for some time - Merlin was here, but he had disappeared into the recesses of the shelves hours ago and was unlikely to reappear any time soon. The lords were preoccupied with the grand tournament, as were the king and his son. No one would miss his presence.

He walked slowly to the unremarkable bookcase and stood on the stack of books prepared for just such a purpose. He touched the trigger book, the small spark of magic at his fingertips barely enough to open the door, and stepped into the hidden alcove of magical study and lore. The enchantment was important; it meant that no one without magic or knowledge of the place would easily discover the last haven of magic within the castle walls.

He froze.

So did Merlin.

They remained frozen for some time, Geoffrey at the entrance and Merlin with a spellbook on his lap. Neither was willing to breathe, let alone move.

At last, Geoffrey broke the silence. "I should have expected as much from Gaius' student," he said softly.

Merlin shrugged awkwardly. "You won't . . ."

"No."

"Me neither," Merlin finished softly. 

Geoffrey stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind him. "What are you reading?" he asked; Merlin wordlessly held up an ancient, druidic book of prophecy. "Why are you reading _that_?" Geoffrey said, stunned and apprehensive at the particular set of prophecies Merlin had chosen.

Merlin flinched, looking unusually pale. "Curious," Merlin mumbled.

"Did you find what you were seeking?" Geoffrey inquired.

Merlin laughed shakily. "Too much." He surged to his feet. "Arthur will be waiting. I - I have to go," he stammered, slipping past Geoffrey and quickly disappearing.

Geoffrey, his breathing only now returning to something manageable, carefully picked up the discarded book. It was written in the magical tongue, but despite his tenuous grasp of the language, the words were familiar enough; anyone with the slightest knowledge of the druids knew the significance of this tome. _Emrys norðêast sb wægn forðrihte mid uferra dryhten_.

Emrys and the Once and Future King.

Geoffrey stood there for several minutes, lost in thought and swirling lore, before gently placing the book back on the precarious stack of books Merlin had assembled. A quick glance at the rest of the titles confirmed his suspicions - the books were nearly the complete set of the Albion Cycle. Prophecy was rarely what it first seemed, although he suspected Merlin knew that only too well.

He walked slowly back to his desk and reopened the half-finished _History of the Kings of Britain_. He picked up his quill and began a new heading, carefully inscribing the words. _Emrys and the Once and Future King._

_Druidic lore speaks one named Emrys, wreathed in mystery and secrets. His names are many, but all speak of him as one who guides a figure known only as the Once and Future King to the unification and rising of Albion . . ._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this collection of Merlin drabbles! These drabbles are not exactly a hundred words; rather, they are approximately 100 - 500 word snippets that take place in canon up to the end of season four, then diverge into a magical revelation soon afterwards. All the drabbles are contained within the same universe, although I'll be jumping around a lot in the timeline.
> 
> This is not the original chapter one, nor is this the original posting. Rather, this is a crossposting from fanfiction.net, where I've already written over 120 drabbles for this work. Over the course of the series, the tone shifts from purely "everyday" moments to a more introspective look at the series as a whole and the writing gets better (I started writing these two years ago, and my writing has definitely improved!), so if the first few drabbles don't catch your interest, feel free to skip to later chapters once more are posted. The settings, tone, and characters cover a broad range drabble to drabble, but this first chapter should give a fairly good idea of my later work.
> 
> As for my posting schedule, I'm hoping to post drabbles fairly rapidly at a rate of a few a day, excluding Sundays.
> 
> As a final note, "The Albion Cycle" is a name I borrowed from the brillant canon-divergent series of the same name by AntaresTheEighthPleiade over on fanfiction.net.


	2. Old

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! I forgot a disclaimer. Here it is: I'd be quite excited to own Merlin, but I don't. Go ahead and assume this disclaimer covers this whole fic since I doubt my (non)ownership will change anytime soon, although I'll enthusiastically inform you if this ceases to be the case.

Merlin never knew his grandfather, and he had only known his father for a few precious hours. He never had much contact with Ealdor's village elders. The only old men Merlin really knew well were Uther, Gaius, and a few angry old sorcerers. Which led to a rather odd understanding of what old men were really like.

Really, Merlin reflected, given what he had to work with, Dragoon was surprisingly _normal_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it's fun going through old stuff I've written. Clearly, the drabble length will increase eventually (see last chapter), but for now, enjoy this short li'l observation about Dragoon.


	3. Injury

"I. Am. Going. To. Kill. You."

Merlin laughed weakly, carefully propping himself up on one elbow. "Never knew you cared so much," he said lightly.

Arthur dropped the façade of detached disapproval in favor of the  _much_ more satisfying option of yelling. "I told you not to go off on your own! Do you listen? No. And look where it got you!" He gestured to the bandages tightly wrapped around Merlin's torso.

Merlin cracked a smile. "So now you'll kill me because I survived this? It must be really hard for you to say you're worried."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Merlin?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

"Shutting up, Sire."


	4. Fire

Magic was sublime goodness, beautiful strength, healing and relief beyond compare. Merlin knew that.

Magic was nightmarishly horrific, unshakable evil, a terror beyond what even Uther could dream of. Merlin knew that.

Magic was like fire. It could quickly become a terrible, cruel force of death that haunted your darkest dreams ( _the pyre was lit, and the flames rose high_ ), yet -

Merlin breathed the word ( _no longer necessary, but comforting in its familiarity_ ). Forbearnan. Gossamer strands of fire laced through his fingers, warm and vibrant and new, tracing delicate designs in his hands. Life, warmth, protection, beauty.

Life and death. Death and life. Fire, Merlin thought, was its own type of magic.


	5. Frog

The Druids had many prophecies, many stories about the great Emrys who would rise up and restore true magic to the land of Albion he had built. They had stories about his courage, his power, his immortality.

One man, though, had a fonder, gentler memory of Emrys, one he treasured and kept close on dark, bitter nights. He had been traveling through a small village on the outskirts of Cenred's kingdom when a raven-haired child noticed him and half-ran, half-stumbled to greet the new stranger.

He momentarily discounted the child, but a chill ran down his back as the piercing gaze of Emrys was abruptly leveled at him. He turned slowly.

Emrys beamed, a lopsided, brilliant smile that could light up a room, and deposited something in his hands. It wiggled.

"Frog," the young boy said happily.

An anxious-looking women called for the boy; after a last, curious glance at him, Emrys cheerfully collected his frog and ran back towards the woman.

For, as the Druid realized that day, Emrys was many things. He was a leader. He was immortal. He was Magic.

But he was also a boy, a child who stumbled and smiled in the same heartbeat. And, in a startling moment of realization, he realized that Emrys was far more human than anyone ever anticipated.


	6. Improvisation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode tag: 3x10

A sword prodded his back, and Merlin smiled internally. He turned to find Arthur (why did it have to be Arthur?) staring him down. "Your name?" Arthur asked coldly.

. . . Bother. He hadn't thought this far out.

Worse, the _only_ name he could think of was Kilgharrah, no matter how much he tried. "I am . . ." he stalled.

". . . Dragoon! The Great!"

The guards led away the dread sorcerer, but Merlin's attention was focused elsewhere.  _Really?_ he complained silently, mentally kicking himself. _All the names in the world, and all you can come up with is_ The Great Dragoon _?_


	7. Modest

 

"You're kidding, mate."

Merlin half-shrugged. "It just sort of happened," he mumbled.

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Let me get this straight. You became Arthur's manservant because you _stopped time_ in front of King Uther and his entire court. And it 'just happened.'"

Merlin flushed and shifted, still rather uneasy at speaking about magic so openly, despite everything. "I didn't stop time, I just slowed it down a bit."

Gwaine laughed, a touch incredulously and entirely fondly, absently wondering how he had gotten used to such bizarre statements in less than a week. He slung his arm around Merlin's wiry shoulders. "Only you, Merlin. Only you."


	8. Spring

Merlin looked cheerfully out the window. "Spring's coming," he said happily.

  
Gaius glanced at the piles snow heaped outside. "It may be a bit early for that," he cautioned.

  
Merlin stood up and stretched. "Mmmm. It'll be here in a week or so. Want help with those herbs?"

  
Gaius passed Merlin a bowl of ground thyme. "Put this in the blue bottle besides you." He studied Merlin curiously as he worked. "How do you know spring is coming so soon?"

  
The boy glanced up, startled. "Can't you feel it?" he asked in confusion. "The . . . the . . ." He waved his hands around vaguely. "The earth is stirring, the wind sings of Spring. The yellow flowers in the fields are getting ready to bloom. Spring is just a breath away. Can't you feel it?" he repeated.

  
Gaius could only shake his head in wonder. "No, my boy, I cannot." He glanced at Merlin, wondering how Merlin, who had arrived late summer, knew the Camelot meadows bloomed yellow in the spring. Again, he wondered - who, exactly, was Merlin?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really fascinated by Merlin's connection to nature. I'm extrapolating a lot based on that one scene in 5x02 where Merlin notices that everything feels so much more. Actually, I think his scene with the unicorn counts, too. He's visibly upset by its death. My headcanon is that Merlin, being the "son of earth, sea, and sky" is very tuned in to nature. I'll be coming back to this in other drabbles, so stay posted.


	9. Conflicted

Morgana was a traitor. A witch. An enemy.

Arthur wished it were that simple. Morgana was other things, as well. A confidante. A companion. A sister. The irony was bitter - she was a sister in more ways that Arthur had ever imagined - but the truth held firm.

It was a constant pulse, a heartbeat. Traitor. _Friend_. Usurper. _Protector_. Witch. _Sister_. In and out. Forward and backwards. Sideways and through, weaving into every part of him and pulling him in too many directions at once.

(But no matter what Morgana did, he would be forever grateful to her for teaching him to stand up to his father.)


	10. Statues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode tag: 1x02, kind of.

". . . and this stairway leads to the Physician's chambers," their guide told the new knights.

Gwaine's gaze wandered to a nearby staircase. "Why's there only one dog statue?" he asked.

Elyan jabbed him with an elbow. "Gwaine," he hissed, "focus."

The courtier nodded polite acknowledgement. "Your companion is correct. You can see where there used to be a pair of statues, but the other went missing a few years back. No one knows what happened to it." He paused, then laughed, suddenly far less formal. "If you ask Merlin, he gets a very strange look on his face, but he's never told."


	11. Mornings

Arthur awoke to the sound of a respectful but firm "Sire" and moaned, seriously considering the advantages of staying in bed.

"Sire," Not-Merlin said more insistently.

All Arthur wanted to do was bury his head under the pillows, because, although he'd never admit it, he had found the only way he woke up properly these days was with a sudden blast of sunlight to the face and a horribly cheerful "Rise and shine!" But he couldn't stay in bed, could he? There was no Merlin to drag him out of bed (often literally), just a model servant. A bootlicker, Merlin would call him. Groaning softly, he got out of bed and blearily listened to Not-Merlin tell him his schedule for the day.

He dismissed Not-Merlin as soon as he could, completely ignoring his morning council meeting in favor of finding where his idiot manservant had disappeared to _this_ time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over on fanfiction.net, I said that I would write a drabble for anyone who gave me a one-word prompt. I'm offering the same thing here, so choose any word and I'll write up a drabble. Bear in mind that since I'm more than 100 drabbles behind what I'm actually posting, it'll be a while before it "officially" appears in this collection; in the meanwhile, I'll post the drabble as a reply to your comment. 
> 
> Also, the next few updates contain prompt drabbles to everyone who responded over on fanfiction.net.


	12. Hamartia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hamartia: A fatal flaw leading to the downfall of a tragic hero or heroine.  
> Prompt by Lexi1220

He was renowned, if not for his mercy, then for his justice. Under his rule, he drove away the horrific threats that plagued his kingdom. He stood with the most powerful Dragonlord and sorcerer of their day, and his wife was expecting a child, at long last. Nothing could stand in their way.

Until something did. He lost Ygraine, and he fell from grace.

He was renowned, if not for his justice, then for his strength. Under his rule, sorcerers burned and magic fled, but the land survived and so did the people. His ruthlessness was still touched with compassion and concern, so long as magic stayed out of the picture. Unfortunately, it rarely did. Magic battered at his defenses day and night. The final blow came when his sweet, fiery girl embraced magic and claimed the throne of Camelot as her own.

He lost Morgana, and he fell from sanity.

He was a broken man, but the determination to protect what was left of his family still drove him, beyond the reaches of mercy and sanity and perhaps life itself. And now Arthur was before him, under attack, and _he would not lose Arthur as well._

He saved Arthur, but he could not save himself. He fell from life.

And somehow, it was enough.

 


	13. Stocks

Gwen curiously walked up to the boy who didn't seem to mind the people throwing all manner of rotten food at him. He even went so far as to laugh - not a condescending, bitter laugh, but a laugh of wry humor and genuine amusement.

The boy who had defied the prince. The boy who took public humiliation in stride, who laughed when others would have been disgraced. Who was this boy?

"I'm in disguise," he confided, laughter still lingering in his eyes.

When the boy, moving quicker than should have been possible, saved the Prince's life while everyone else was still frozen in shock, her mind flashed back to his joking words. _I'm in disguise_. And perhaps, she thought, he had been telling the truth.


	14. Drunk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from thegirlwiththerainboweyes.

Merlin opened the door and ducked out of reflex; sure enough, a large unidentified object smashed directly overhead. He wove through the tightly packed men - a skill perfected in the Camelot kitchens - and headed for the bartender. The bartender raised an eyebrow at Merlin. "Looking for him again?" he asked. Merlin nodded. "Back of the room," the bartender grunted, turning back to his customers.

Merlin approached Gwaine. "Come on, Gwaine," Merlin said cheerfully. "Time to go."

Gwaine sighed. Merlin grinned and pulled him to his feet. "Lovely seeing you all again," Merlin told the rest of the table with a smile. They all laughed, and Merlin glanced at the assortment on the table. "I do need the sword back. He'll want it tomorrow."

"But -" someone said. Unwisely.

The steely glint in Merlin's eye convinced him otherwise. Merlin dragged Gwaine out into the cold night air. "Sorry, Merlin," Gwaine apologized with a perfectly sober smile. "Thanks for getting me again. I owe you one."

"Yes, yes you do," Merlin grumbled. "Do me a favor and beat Arthur in practice tomorrow. He's being a real prat."

Gwaine's smile was fierce. "I look forward to it."

 


	15. Fireflies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by Linorien.

They sat side by side, waist deep in the still water. It was Samhain, and the veil between the two worlds was at its thinnest. Some may have found the situation frightening.

The two figures in the water, one bound eternally to death, and the other bound eternally to life, found it comforting.

There had been tears and tight, desperate hugs and hurried warnings. There had been urgent messages and soft reassurances and overwhelming relief, tinged with sadness.

Now, though, there was only a magical, surreal moment of peace. The fireflies flickered in the dusky evening light, and the Sidhe, moving too quickly for any mortal eye to see, traced beautiful, shimmering patterns between the fireflies, in the space between air and water, earth and sky, life and death. The two immortals watched them in quiet wonder.

The magic of the world stilled at the tender care of the two on the lake's edge. Freya leaned into Merlin, who wrapped a gentle arm around her wet shoulders.

And for one brief, shining moment, the world was at peace.

 


	16. Root

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt! This one's from lexi1220.

It all started with a tree root.

As far as Merlin could tell, that made this all the tree root's fault.

They had been finishing a surprisingly close race - Will was the more athletic of the two, but Merlin knew the forest unnervingly well and lost Will in the tangled underbrush and twisting paths. The last part of the race ran along the edge of long, rocky drop near the tunnels and caves. They had explored here many, many times. It should have been all right.

Except it wasn't.

Merlin's triumphant shout of victory died in his throat as he watched Will stumble across a large tree root, half-covered in autumn leaves. Will swayed for a moment, then fell, plummeting into empty air.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Merlin raced to the edge of the drop, searching for Will. That's when he realized it _had_ happened in slow motion. Will hovered a few empty feet from the top of the ledge, his eyes wide and panicked and confused.

Merlin bit his lip and hurriedly pulled Will to safety. Will lay panting on the ground, shaken and scared.

To Will's everlasting credit, he was not scared of Merlin.

But there were still pressing questions to be answered. "What," Will gasped, "was that?"


	17. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petrichor: the scent of dust after rain  
> Prompt from hollyhobbit101.

 

Morgana hated living in a hovel. It was utterly degrading that she, rightful heir of Camelot and High Priestess of the Old Religion, should be forced to live in a tiny hut in the middle of the woods.

At least, that's what she told herself, and most of the time, she believed it.

Right now, though, the sun was just emerging from the clouds after a rainstorm, and a late summer's breeze wafted the smell of the outdoors inside. It was at once fresh and cool, clean and wild and inviting. She carefully stepped outside, and the scent of newness, of the untamed, gentle beauty of nature overwhelmed her. For a moment, she forgot her desperation, her hatred and her fear.

She just was. She was one with nature, one with the world, one with herself.

It was only for a moment. After that, she bitterly remembered why she shouldn't enjoy living quite this close to nature and marched back inside, slamming the flimsy, wooden door behind her.

But she left the windows open.


	18. Nervous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "nervous" by alicenotinwonderland.

"Can't you do anything right?" Arthur snapped, and Merlin flinched. He had tried, he really had, but he had never seen armor from closer than ten feet before last week, and now he was expected to dress an irritable and demanding Prince in it. _If it wasn't for that dragon_ \- he half-snarled mentally, ruefully wondering why his destiny couldn't have been something easier, like being eaten alive by a dragon.

Well, he was being eaten alive by a dragon, technically. A Pendragon, to be precise.

Arthur noticed his new manservant's jumpiness and sighed grudgingly. "Look," he said with forced calm. "This piece goes on first, and then you put that - no, the other one - careful! Then that piece goes on top, and _I'll_ take care of my sword until you figure out how to handle it without stabbing someone."

It was still nerve wracking, but Merlin saw a flicker of - well he wasn't sure what it was, but it wasn't pure arrogance, and it was a start. He took a deep breath and carefully handed Arthur his sword.

Arthur looked almost pleased.

 


	19. Protector

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "protector" by p3rfectlyn0rmalx.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur snapped.

"I'm here," Merlin said, suddenly tired of all the lies, "to protect you. Like I always do."

Arthur laughed harshly. "You? Go back to Camelot, Merlin. This is too dangerous a mission for the likes of you."

Merlin clung to the underlying protection in Arthur's harsh words and doggedly followed his Prince, wishing that maybe, just once, Arthur would believe him when he told the truth. _ ****_


	20. Hinges

Great destinies turn on small hinges. The destiny of the Once and Future King was no different.

Jerome, usually mild-mannered, was at the end of his rope. "I quit! Throwing food at me, I can handle. Throwing cups at me, I can handle. Throwing knives at me - I'm done. I quit."

The head of servants listened patiently until Jerome was through, then spoke. "You might want to give him another chance. He's nearly accustomed to you, now."

"No," Jerome snapped. "You'll have to inform the King that his son needs another punching block - excuse me, manservant. I'm leaving."

Later that night, a boy saved the Prince from a knife, this time thrown not in jest, but with deadly intent. The King's eyes lingered thoughtfully on the boy. After all, Arthur did need another manservant.


	21. Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt "Time" by Beth Nottingham.

"You can't blame him for that," the sorceress murmured sympathetically as Merlin made a hurried entrance.

Arthur blinked. "What?"

"Being late. Losing track of time. His sense of time in general."

"What are you talking about?" Arthur asked in confused exasperation.

"Merlin. Emrys. He's an immortal - he was born that way. His mind is equipped to think in terms of thousands of years, although he does not fully understand it yet. Don't blame him for losing track of a few minutes."

Arthur looked at his friend, and saw, like a fleeting shadow, the heavy weight of passing years that would never claim his friend.

". . . I hadn't realized," he murmured at last.

Her smile remained gentle. "Neither has he."

 


End file.
